E.V.I.E.: 13 Slayers, 13 Missions

by Lexi C. Foss

  2

  Darynder

  I watch the changeling ascend the stairs and disappear into the only room for rent. From my seat by the back window, I heard every word she said.

  Standing, I duck under the ceiling beam and flip a coin to Herald, the barkeep. He gives me a stern nod. I’ve been in town for a few days trying to lay low, but everyone here marked me for a noble from High Mountain as soon as I set foot in Sartia. High in the winter realm, Sartia sits at the base of the Wyvern Range, the most untouched area in all of Arin, save perhaps the Abyss.

  I climb the stairs silently and listen outside the changeling’s door. She’s profane, verging on blasphemous with her words, but she and I share the same quarry. A seeker. I tracked him here a week ago, but then he disappeared. And now this changeling appears and smells of sun and sea, warmth and summer. Something is very wrong, and I’m going to find out what.

  When I knock on her door, I can feel her freeze inside after muttering a curse.

  “I can heal you.” I see her through the rather wide cracks in the wood.

  She sits on the bed and turns up the stolen bottle, drinking it down without giving me a response first.

  Something tickles across my chest, but on the inside, a weird sort of pang. I rub the spot and sigh, waiting for her to answer.

  “How much?” She finishes the bottle and lets out a belch.

  Ancestors. “How much what?”

  “What’s it going to cost me?” She holds up her foot and stares at it. “I don’t have much.”

  “Information.”

  She squints at the door. “What kind of information?”

  “May I?” I don’t wait for permission as I push into her tiny room.

  “I’m not that kind of girl, mister.” She quirks a smile at me.

  “I don’t dally with changelings.” I close the door behind me, and I once again have to duck to avoid the rafters.

  “I’m not a changeling. Sheesh.” She throws her hands up and sends the bottle flying.

  I catch it. “You look like a changeling. Smell like one, too.” I catch another scent. One I can’t place. That odd pang sounds in my chest again. “Are you a witch? Is this some spell?”

  “What? What are you talking about?” She pokes at her blackened toes with a look of chagrin. “Can’t feel a thing. Can you believe it? Completely numb.”

  “Do you want me to heal you or not?”

  Her gaze finally meets mine. Blue eyes, so strange in the winter realm. High fae don’t have such fanciful colors. Gold, silver, or dark gray—those are common to my kind. As a subject of winter, my eyes are dark with only a hint of gold around the iris. But her eyes, they’re like the sky on a bright, cold day.

  “Why are you staring?” She shivers and pulls her elven cloak to her throat. “And why is it always freezing here? Last time I came to Arin, I was in summer on a pleasure barge. Everywhere should be the summer realm. I mean, c’mon.” She looks at the splintered wood walls as the icy wind howls through the cracks. “This is definitely not that.”

  The pang comes again, stronger this time. A hard thump of my heart, a ripping sensation as if something is tearing free.

  A hiccup escapes her. “Booze was stronger than I thought.” She lies back and kicks both feet up. “Heal me, and ask me your questions, haughty high fae. Do it quick before the liquor takes me for a dance. And then in the morning, I’ll be gone.” She winks.

  Strange changeling. I’m already close enough to touch her, but I can’t heal her. Not yet. Not until she tells me what I need to know.

  “You were asking the barkeeper about a seeker.”

  She blinks. “I thought you said you had questions. That didn’t end with a question sound. It was definitely a period sound.”

  I don’t have much experience with changelings other than a servant here and there, but I’m certain they were never this mouthy. Even so, I find myself venturing half a step closer.

  She stares up at me, her eyelids growing heavy. “At least they don’t hurt, right?” She yawns. “They look like they hurt, but they don’t.” She stretches out and rests her ruined feet against my stomach. “Oooh, like rock. Meoooww.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Ilsa Domenico at your service.”

  “Are you tracking a seeker?”

  She throws an arm across her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s pretty much my calling.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean?” she parrots back at me, then sighs in a decidedly sultry way. Lying back like this, she’s vulnerable, open. Her throat is exposed, and beneath her cloak, her clothes are oddly thin. Not appropriate for this realm. “Get on with the interrogation and make it tickle if you want. I’m game.” She grins.

  I can’t tell if I’m infuriated or aroused. Maybe a little of both.

  “When you said tracking the seeker is your calling, what did you mean?”

  “I’m a slayer.”

  “Of seekers?”

  She hiccups again. “Yep. I saw this one in Florida when I was on a blind date with a total jerk, and so I gave chase, the vamp hopped a ley line, I followed, and then I wound up all the way back here in my 1/16th motherland.”

  “You’re part fae?”

  “Only the unimportant part.” She shrugs. “Happy now? Fix my feet. I have a lot of running around to do in the morning.”

  “Chasing the seeker?”

  “I thought we just cleared that up, haughty high fae.”

  “My name is Darynder.”

  “That’s cute.” Hiccup. “Heal me.”

  “One more question.”

  “Gahh, this is turning out worse than the blind date.”

  “Are you here to kill the seeker?”

  “Yes.” She pushes her feet against me. “Do me, daddy.” Hiccup.

  She held up her end, so I’ll do the same. I’m a fae of honor, after all.

  Reaching down, I grab hold of her small, pale ankles.

  And then my soul rips apart in a roar of ice and light.

  3

  Ilsa

  “What the fuuuuuuuuuuu— Whoa!” I scoot back on the bed and stare at the high fae with the sexy body who has now turned into an ice lynx.

  It pounces on me, the heavy weight of its body pressing me down into the wimpy straw mattress. The floor beneath us groans in protest.

  “Hey. Hey, buddy.” I blink away the boozy haze. “Easy there.”

  Its wide, soft paws pin me to the bed, and its claws are only inches from shredding my throat. Fangs longer than any I’ve ever seen hover just above me, and when the creature looks down at me, its dark eyes send a shiver coursing through my veins.

  “Listen, um, kitty. I don’t know what just happened, but I want the hard-bodied haughty high fae back. Is that a thing you can do?” I slowly—so damn slowly—reach up and scratch it under the chin.

  A purr erupts from its chest, and it settles lower on me, its body warm beneath the layers of stark white fur.

  “Sweet kitty.” I pet him, and he leans down and runs his rough tongue up my cheek. “Wait.” I kick my leg out to the side, then raise my foot. “Look, you did it!” My skin is healed, the black frostbite gone. Only a tingling sensation remains. “Such a good kitty.” I scratch his cheeks, leading to an even deeper purr.

  I slide my other knee out then kick up my foot. All better. I’ll be out of here when the sun rises. That vamp won’t last long, not with me on his trail.

  “Okay, this has been fun, but I have a long day tomorrow.” I nuzzle against his soft neck. “Then again, oh my god, you feel so nice.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “Warmer than my sweater, even. Maybe you can stay just like this. Like an electric kitty blanket that also has a nice vibration feature. Just don’t eat me, okay? Whatever sort of kink this is, I’m not judging. But I don’t want you to snack on me while I nap. Deal?”

  The ice lynx doesn’t disagree, so I take that as a win. He looks
at me with those eyes, the same as the high fae. Why is he in his feral form? Did he feel threatened? I mean, I am pretty badass, but he’s not attacking. He could rip me to shreds easily.

  I hiccup and lay my head back. He’s just staring at me, still purring. Still so warm.

  “Is this a standoff?” I blink slowly. “A purr-off?” I giggle a little and close my eyes. “Look, haughty high fae. I’m holding you to this deal that you totally agreed to. No eating me. And we’re good.” I relax, accepting his weight and his heat. It’s better than sleeping on this hay bed and shivering all night.

  I turn my head and press my cheek against his paw, and he lowers his chin to rest in the crook of my neck.

  “Don’t drool.” I yawn. “I could drown.”

  4

  Darynder

  I wake with the sweetest scent in my nose. A sound like a tree saw cuts through my dreams, and I open my eyes to find the changeling beneath me, her mouth open on a snore. My cock seems to have been awake well before my eyes opened, because it’s already hard as stone and pressed tightly against the changeling’s body.

  She’s warm and soft, and more than that, she’s my mate. My feral stretches inside me, its claws flashing onto my fingers for a moment then receding. This beautiful creature woke the beast inside me, and even now my fangs are lengthening to mark her as my own.

  The snoring stops, and she opens her eyes. “Hey.” Her gaze goes to my fangs. “What, um, what’re you doing?” She cocks her head to the side.

  “I need to mark you.”

  “Maybe some other time.” She moves her hips. “Holy shit, you came loaded for bear, didn’t you?”

  “Pardon?” I eye the juncture of her shoulder and throat, the perfect spot to sink my fangs. No one will be able to mistake such a mark.

  “You are ready to do this animal-style.” She grins. “Sorry, haughty high fae, but I simply don’t have the time to give you the ride you’re after.”

  “We have all the time in Arin. You’re my mate.” I lean closer, my fangs almost grazing her skin.

  “What?” She shoves me with surprising strength. Not enough to actually move me off her, but it was certainly a valiant effort. My mate is powerful. Of course she is. “Get off me, or at least change back into the soft kitty. That was nice.”

  “You don’t find my form pleasing?” I can’t imagine that to be so. I’m known for being a particularly good-looking noble, even in High Mountain. My bloodline is strong, almost as strong as King Leander’s, though I’m not one to brag.

  “You’re sexy, definitely. But I don’t have time for whatever spell you’re under.” She pushes again.

  This time I relent and stand.

  Her eyes go straight to my cock, and it’s as if I can feel her hand there.

  “Ancestors.” I swallow my curse.

  “I’m probably going to regret passing this up.” She licks her lips. “Scratch that, I’m definitely going to regret it, but I have work to do.” She sighs and stands, then grabs her pack from beside the bed. “Thanks for healing me.” Flinging the elven cloak around her shoulders, she then reaches inside the pack and pulls out some warm-looking boots.

  “That won’t be enough to keep you warm in this part of the realm.” I frown as she pulls them on. I’ll have to remedy that. There’s no way I’ll ever let my mate feel the bite of cold. The fact I didn’t save her from it last night will forever be a regret.

  “They’ll do.” She laces them and looks up at me. “I don’t plan on being here long.” Her stomach rumbles as she gains her feet.

  “You’re hungry.” Damn, I’m already failing as her mate. “Come, you must eat, and then we’ll seal the bond between us.”

  She arches a brow. “I’ll eat, but there’ll be no sealing, all right? I’m just here to slay a vamp and then go back home. I have leftover Chinese that’s only good for like, I’d say one more day, two if I want to run the risk of salmonella. Can’t be hanging around.” She tries to push past me.

  I don’t move.

  “Big guy.” She sighs. “Seriously, I have to work.”

  “Food first.”

  “I’ll do food. But I don’t have time to dick down, okay?” She puts her hands on her hips. “Do you understand?”

  I think I do, though I’ve never in my entire immortal life heard mating referred to in such a fashion. But I’ve won the food battle. I’ll have to start there. It’s clear she doesn’t feel the mate bond yet. But she will, once I’m inside her with fangs and cock, she’ll know we are fated.

  With that confident thought, I lead her out of her room and down into the tavern.

  The smell hits me first. I freeze and throw a hand out to keep her safely behind me.

  “What the hell?” She peeks over my shoulder at the blood and carnage. “Now who’s going to make my breakfast?”

  5

  Ilsa

  “You must’ve pissed off a powerful witch.” I toss back some sort of fruit juice that has a bitter aftertaste. “Because you really think I’m your mate.”

  “You are.” He reaches over and picks up another piece of toast, then butters it meticulously for me. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” I mean, I don’t go around turning down food. “So, the vamp obviously knows I’m here since he fileted the barkeep while we slept.” I shake my head. I used to feel so horribly guilty whenever something like this happened. But then I realized that vamps are going to kill. It’s all they do. Whereas I might go to a club and dance, or take a stroll by the sea to watch the dolphins, or maybe go to a theater to see a movie, a vamp goes to a club to kill, takes a stroll by the sea to find someone to kill, and goes to a theater to kill whoever is unlucky enough to sit next to them. I suspect the vamp would’ve come upstairs for me if a giant ice lynx hadn’t been snoozing on top of me all night.

  His gorgeous face darkens just a bit. “Do you know this seeker personally?”

  “What? No.” I make a pfft sound. “There’s nothing to know. They’re killing machines. No remorse. No thoughts of anything except their next meal. You can’t get personal with a vamp, unless you want to get dead.”

  “The seekers aren’t mindless drones.” He scoops a bit of mutton from the bottom of my bowl and holds the spoon out for me.

  I take the proffered food and wash it down with some ale. We may have left the tavern in a hurry, but not before I snagged a nice little cask.

  The haughty high fae had paraded down the frozen road of the town, knocked on the first door he’d found, and we’d been welcomed inside to a warm fire and some food right away. Perks to hanging with nobility, I suppose.

  “They may not be mindless, but they’re evil.”

  “And you’re the judge of that?” He pours me more ale.

  “No, but I’ve met enough to know. Why, are you in love with one or something stupid like that?”

  “Absolutely not. I’ve found my mate.” He smiles when he says it, and yes, he is somewhat adorable, but that isn’t the point.

  “I’m not your mate.”

  “Tell me that again after I claim you.”

  I wave my buttered toast around. “There will be no claiming. I’m here to work. Not get claimed. Keep your fangs to yourself, thank you very much.”

  Quick as can be, he grabs my wrist and leans toward me. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit here and watch you eat, all the while knowing I’ve found my mate and haven’t claimed her yet? I’ve waited for you for so, so long. If Leander hadn’t broken the curse on the realm, I may’ve met you but never known you were mine.”

  He’s so handsome, so damn fae with his long dark hair, perfect skin, and sexy lips. His pointed ears are my catnip, but I’ll never tell him that. My fae line is so weak that my ears barely muster the hint of a tip. Honestly, they’re sad little rounded ears. No wonder everyone thinks I’m a changeling.

  “Do not doubt you are my mate,” he all but growls. “I would never claim a female unless she was bound to me by the Ancestors, as you
are.”

  I swallow hard at the seriousness in his tone. Should I knife him? I could. But maybe I should go easy on him. After all, he’s clearly hexed if he thinks I’m his.

  “Take it down a notch, buddy. Look, I had a good time with your feral last night, okay?”

  The mistress of the house turns her head so fast I’m surprised one of her horns doesn’t snap off.

  “Sleeping with your feral. Sleeping.” I shoot her a look, and she hurries away. “So, I’m thankful for that, and you did heal my messed-up feet, so that’s a good thing, too. All wins. Just because I’m here to find a vamp doesn’t mean that we can’t, you know, talk or something.” I mean, I’m not going to agree to get on my back for him, but maybe he can help me find my quarry.

  He releases his grip and sits back, his dark eyes still on me, though he weds his lips together. I eat as he thinks; the clanks and fizzles in his mind almost audible.

  As I finish my food, he asks, “And you intend to slay the seeker?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m a slayer.” I shrug. I mean, it’s in the name. Pretty obvious.

  “You appointed yourself the slayer of all seekers?”

  “No.” I drain my ale and lean back to pat my full stomach. “It’s my calling. A tingle up my spine. A secret society of slayers who rid the worlds of vampires. Just so happens I found this seeker’s trail of blood and hopped on the ley line while it was still active. I’ll find him. A special slayer talent—I can always find a vamp, no matter how far he runs. Anyway, I followed him to this icy wasteland.” I glance out the window at the falling snow. “So here I am.” I glance at the high fae. “With you.”

  “With your mate.” He runs a hand through his dark hair.

  I admit I’ve always favored the look of the winter realm fae. Dark hair, dark eyes, built like the mountains that rise in sharp angles from the edges of their lands. This one is particularly good looking, so much so that I wish I had more time to spend with him. I can’t even imagine how intense he’d be if he got me in bed. He thinks I’m his mate, after all. But I’m not here for him and whatever hex he’s under. Not to mention, I can’t go around bearing the mark of his bite when I’m not his mate. That’d be … awkward.